My Only Fear
by brakken
Summary: One-shots from the perspectives of individual characters, on different aspects of their loves/lives. Consists mainly of impressions, descriptions, and thoughts. Not sure on how many chapters there will be. Better written than summary.
1. Chapter 1

My Only Fear

There he goes again. 

I can't bear it. You'd think after all this time I'd be used to it; it's not like I don't deal with it every day. But I'm not used to it. Being around it doesn't make me numb, it just makes me hate it all the more. It just makes it all the worse.

I groan, knowing what will follow all too well.

First the tension. It lies in the ground, the sky, the very air I breathe, thickening and swirling and ripening, a chill crawling up my spine that won't go away. Next the very sky darkens, both a reflection of and an addition to the foreboding that's fallen over me. Sometimes the wind picks up too, whipping around me like the first gusts of a tornado, although I know all these things aren't natural; they're demonic versions, the clouds jyaki and shouki, the wind the flare of youki. 

Then his nose twitches; his ears shift, alert; he can sense the approach long before I can. I, in my schoolgirl way, would normally find it unbearably cute; Kami knows how I coo over those ears of his; but now I just get more tense, more worried. His movements are just further proof that a fight is coming, like the youki and jyaki from before.

Then the adversary is in view, and yet still I cling to the hope that, somehow, this doesn't mean a confrontation. But of course I'm wrong.

And so it starts. 

The many snarls of fury and derision, the intimidating barks, the low dangerous growl permeating and intensifying the animosity rampant throughout. They crash in on me, one by one, aggressive and unforgiving, but it is not them that I fear.

The banter and insults bounce back and forth, threatening and tense, the dialog constant despite the action. The curses are repulsive, the insults graphic, but they do not inspire my unease, my terrible fear.

Even the ringing clash of swords, the loud thumps and thuds as he leaps and falls don't shock or intimidate me, can't get me scared.

But the nauseating stench of sweat and blood, the sight of the opponent and the near misses, the grunts of pain and sick sound of torn flesh. _They_ bring the taste of terror blazing through me, bitter with despair and sour with worry and sickeningly sweet with desperate hope and salty with nervous sweat all at once; too much for me to deal with.

Oh, Kami, I want so badly to look away, just close my eyes and not see any of it any more, as if I can somehow get away, as if I can keep it from being real by not seeing. But I can't close my eyes, can't drag my gaze away. I can't do anything; only watch.

The horror and terror slowly fill me, until I am brimming with them, incapable of action beyond staring, incapable of thought beyond 'Oh Kami let him be all right…'

And then, just when I feel I might faint from the strength of my fears, and welcome it, desperate for any escape, it is over. 

It is done.

Relief takes hold quickly; the end at last! ; I'm giddy with it. But soon worry tempers it: Is he ok? Was he injured? How badly?

I tend to his wounds as dutifully as I do because only by being so close to him can I begin to let go of my fear, despite all his gruff assurances.

'Keh, I'm fine wench,' he says- but I don't believe it till I can see it up close with my own two eyes, feel him, strong and alive, under my hands as I check for injury or attend to the ones already there. 

My mama doesn't hear the half of my adventures because I know she'd be unduly terrified for my safety. She can't understand how safe Inuyasha makes me feel, how far from danger I am with him; I know that he will always protect me.

My only fear is that he will not protect himself.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I know I should be updating existing stories. And I tried to, I swear I did. It was as I had my pen to paper for Chapter 7 of I'm Listening that this spilled out instead. I haven't got a clue where it came from- the idea of her worrying about him as he fought has been bobbing around my head as a potential poem for about a week now, but I never meant it to come out like this. Honestly, I didn't plan for it to come out at all. It just did. Hope you guys like it anyway. 


	2. Chapter 2

I Didn't Mean It

Shit.

There, I've gone and said it again. Never mind what-hell if I know, you think if I knew I'd have said it in the first place? It's always like this, us talking, sometimes fighting, and out of nowhere comes the scent of salt, close, and heavy.

I shut up quick after that. Like what I was saying matters now. It doesn't hurt that the moment I realize I've screwed up again, everything goes straight out of my head.

My mind is blank, and it's hard to keep panic from setting in. I don't know what to do, what to think, what I feel, except that I've hurt her again, goddamn me.

The second the smell of her tears hits me, every other smell normally around, normally pressing in on me, just disappears. Everything in me focuses on her. Nothing else matters then, not my surroundings, my friends, myself, only her.

She turns away, her body hunched over, but I can still see the glistening drops as they fall, catching the light for those short moments before they become just a few more dark spots in the earth.

She hugs herself, tries to hold herself still, but I can tell how the crying wracks her body, sending shudders coursing through her small form, so fragile in moments like these.

She tries to stifle them, but I can still hear her sobs, her sniffs, her gasps, her hiccoughs.

She smiles at me to hide it, but I can still see the sadness in her eyes.

I can still smell it in her scent, hear it in her voice, even feel it in her touch; her very aura exudes it.

My senses are instantaneously overwhelmed, and the panic is just as quickly met by shame and guilt. It weighs heavy on me, some giant boulder on my back, a boulder even my strength can barely budge.

My mouth, before as dry as a handful of dead leaves, the only part of me unable to sense her, now is filled with the bile of humiliation and guilt, the self-loathing I now feel, knowing I was the bastard who caused her tears. It's acidic and nauseating, and more bitter to my taste than even Kikyou's betrayal. That was more depressing, more tainted by despair; I knew I hadn't done anything wrong that time, beyond trusting her.

With Kagome, the taste is ten times worse. Her tears are all the proof I need to know that I've gone and betrayed _her_. The closest equivalent for me would be puking with an arrow shot into my face, the blood I taste my shame and anger, the bile my self-hatred and bitterness.

As if any of my pain ever matters though, with her like that.

All I can do is try to get her to stop, any way necessary. Hell, I know I suck at comforting people, and normally I'd never even think to bother trying, especially not with words or touching, or any of that shit. But with her…

With her it's different.

I could never stand her weeping whenever, but knowing it's my fault, knowing I've hurt her again, knowing it's for the thousandth time…

My pride, my stubbornness, normally my defining characteristics, bend over backwards now. And she gets out of me something I've barely ever even admitted to myself, let alone out loud.

Because none of it matters, my honor, my pride, my competitiveness, my stubbornness, none of it, not when she's crying.

So I tell her what I could barely tell myself, and never to Kikyou; for all the sympathy I held for her, I could never make such a confession; I didn't trust her enough, didn't have the incentive to, even with her upset because of my mistake.

I could never say to her what I say to the girl in front of me now, trying so hard to hide her tears.

I didn't mean it.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, it just popped out of me again, just like last time…Still don't really know where it came from, only that I knew what it was after the first paragraph or so, which was helpful in finishing it. Hope you like it.


	3. Chapter 3

Not Again

Not again.

He's doing it again. I can't take it when he does this-he thinks we don't notice, but I do. How could I not? He's so different, so pensive and serious, and well, sad. He's normally so jovial and lighthearted, always smiling, talking, teasing.

Now all he does is silently stare at his hand.

Now all I can do is stare at him. My mind has long forgotten the conversation of a moment before, the others swiftly become as distant in my sight as the hazy horizon, their chatter only the slightest hum to my ears. Even the solid feeling of the Hiraikotsu on my back fades away; I am nothing but a pair of eyes, eyes that cannot look away from him.

He is tense. You'd think those robes of his would be able to hide it, but they can't. Not from me anyway. I can see it in the way his shoulders are set, the expression on his face, the cords in his neck, most of all in the way he holds himself so still.

When he's relaxed, he's never that still. Even when he's injured, he manages to move somehow, whether it is merely to shift from side to side in slumber-or to indulge his wandering hand as he is so prone to-he moves.

As much as I detest the feelings of disrespect, not to mention the embarrassment that hand brings me, I can't help but prefer it to what I see now.

His hand, rather than an extension of his hentai personality, meant to touch rather than be seen, is now the object of his scrutiny.

Covered in glove and prayer beads, it looks harmless enough right now. But we all know perfectly well that it isn't.

He doesn't even seem to notice the beads or cloth that cover it; he sees beyond them, to the abyss within; the Kazaana.

His eyes look straight at them, and yet they are far away; he sees something worse, I fear.

The grim line of his mouth, normally curved in a winning, if fake smile, not a little flirtatious, is now tight and strained, like everything else about him at this moment; the total opposite of his natural countenance.

It makes me sad just watching him. Where has his groping gone, his unashamed flirting, his ease with lying to get us a comfortable place to sleep? Where has the light gone from his eyes, the animation from his face, the vigor from his movements?

Where has the life gone? Has it all been sucked into that damnable abyss?

Sometimes I wonder.

I wonder if all his grins, his teasing, his lecherous nature and fun loving attitude are all a facade, meant to keep us from seeing the real him.

I wonder if the man I see now, expression morose and somber, his hand rather than a woman the object of his attention, isn't the real thing.

I hope with every part of me that I'm wrong.

I can't lose another man I love to Naraku.

Not again.

* * *

**A/N:** Here you go. Miroku's will pop in as soon as I decide what aspect of Sango I want to write about from his perspective. Suggestions are appreciated, although I can't promise I'll follow them if my muse does decide on something after all.

Hope you like it.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh Kami

Oh Kami-

Oh Kami.

Oh Kami-sama, let my prayer be heard.

It's happening again. The yin and yang are out of balance with her-the yang is all but gone, like it was when we first met. Like so many other times when her past has caught up with her.

That first time, the yin had swamped the yang, the pain and anger all the compassion…_Then_ the images were fresh…But the memories haunt her still. They haven't gotten weaker over time; that much is clear.

The pain on her face, in her eyes. I can't stand it.

I can't stand it.

All my wit and charm mean nothing now; they can't help her. I can't help her.

I can't ease her pain.

I can only watch, and clench my teeth and fists in frustration.

Rather than her usual confident strides, she shuffles. Rather than head held high and proud, or leaned to one side as she speaks to Kirara or Kagome, it hangs. Rather than held erect, her whole body slumps, with a despair and weakness that crushes me as much as her own troubles crush her.

Her eyes show the extent of the change. Where before they had been full of fire and sparks, anger and joy, now they are blank.

Distant.

Dull with the pain.

Oh, what I would give to have the damning rage fill them, burn from them in her anger with me at what ever 'hentai' act I've committed this time.

I can deal with that fury, as terrifying as it can be.

It's still part of her, a part that I'd never want gone. That rage, and the spirit behind it, just makes her all the more strong and beautiful in my eyes.

Though the consequences of them may be dire, and exceedingly painful, I do not fear them, nor the anger that brings them.

I accept her slaps and glares with the knowledge that all is well with her-how could I fear that?

But something that can destroy her strength, smother her inner flame and light so well?

Something that can cow the confident woman I have come to admire and love so completely?

Something that makes my Sango a submissive and despairing puppet?

That holds more fear over me than any number of yells or smoldering looks or stinging cheeks.

That weighs upon my mind more than even the Kazaana; even the knowledge of my own impending death cannot compare with the dread this change in her inspires in me.

I know the pain of losing a father. But the pain she endures because of Kohaku…I don't think any one of our group can compare, certainly not myself.

I can only pray for her pain to ease, her wounds to heal.

Oh Kami,

Oh Kami.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry about the wait. I've been…insanely occupied, to put it simply. A little thing called the APs. And shows. And concerts. And auditions. And the SAT. And learning to drive stick. And more stuff, but to list it all would take forever, and I want to get the next chapter of this posted (along with my other stuff) as soon as possible. Again, sorry it took so long.

Oh, and I had this done for a while, but didn't really like it…Still don't to be honest, (it doesn't feel like one continuous thought, you know?) but I really can't think of anything to do to it other than delete and start over from scratch, and I don't want to make you all wait more…So hope you like it, even if I didn't. The next chapter should be up soon enough.


	5. Chapter 5

At Least

Uh-oh.

Something's happened-something made him mad or worried or I don't know.

And so he's leaving again…And I'll have to stay behind again…

It makes me sad when he does this. It makes me very sad. I know he doesn't like crying, so I don't, but I'm still sad.

I watch as he goes, watch the entire time. I watch even after he's gone.

He looks around, tells us he's leaving then turns around and goes. He doesn't look back. He's not like that. It's just one sweeping glance around, hair swishing after his head, and then a turn and his back, tall and still, moving steadily further and further away.

He doesn't say goodbye, not ever.

I don't mind. As long as he says when he'll leave, as long as he comes back, it doesn't matter to me.

As long as he doesn't do what my family did, it's ok if he doesn't say goodbye.

My family, my oka-san and otou-san and onii-chans, they left without saying they were leaving and never came back.

One day they were there, the next day they weren't.

It didn't' take me long to find out that they wouldn't come back.

For a while I was on my own. I didn't talk then. I talked a lot before they were killed, but after I didn't.

After a while I met_ him_. And after that I talked again.

I can talk now. Jaken says I talk too much, actually. (He's silly like that.)

When I'm stuck with him I talk as much as possible-because I don't know what will happen next.

I don't know if Sesshomarou-sama will come back.

I don't know if I'll ever talk again if he doesn't.

So for now I'll talk.

At least he said he was leaving.

* * *

**A/N:** I had a lot of fun trying out a very different voice…Which is why it's so short…Hope you like it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Perhaps.**

I do not know why she does it.

I have never given her the slightest compulsion or reward to encourage her loyalty to me.

And yet it persists.

Days and days, full of traveling that should easily bore or tire a weak waif like her, fail to dampen her spirits or prevent her from following me. She does so with consistently bright eyes and determined step. It's disconcerting.

The sun rises, I direct her to follow suit, and the day begins without issue. If I wish for her to be silent, she is; if I do not mind her chatter, she does so freely. We travel in whatever mode bothers me least, and she never complains no matter the type.

Well, not to me. My retainer might convince one to believe that complain and sing is all she does; it is not so, however.

In the early morning, she will walk with a lively, springing stride. She observes the birds singing in the trees, and attempts to name them by their sound. Sometimes she chatters and chirps more than they do; but it is not a disagreeable sound.

In the late morning, she will be more pensive, less prone to attempting games. She walks still, but not as quickly, and occasionally I hear her stomach churn with hunger.

It is then that we stop. She is resourceful, for her youth, and can usually feed herself, given enough time. While she waits for whatever it is she has collected to cook, she picks wildflowers or chases dragonflies.

When she eats, it is with alacrity and delicacy. We are soon off again, and she, replenished by the break, strides in a sprightly manner once more, and her cheerful voice is rarely silent.

By late afternoon, she is tired. She will rest on Ah-Uhn until we make camp. If we do not, she will sleep on the beast until the next morning, and then walk again.

She does all this without the faintest complaint, nor reward for her efforts—except, perhaps, my very presence. It is a strange thought, that she values it so.

It will take time for me to become accustomed to her; for all that she is already accustomed to me.

For the moment, I still do not know why or how I came across such a strange ningen.

But I permit her to accompany me.

Perhaps I value her company as well.

* * *

**A/N**: Hey…You know how I said I'd stick this up in like, a week? And that was back in June? The phrase 'whenever I write it' is a bit more applicable to these things. So sorry if you've actually been waiting this whole time…been rather busy, don'tcha know.

As for this…It was really fun, actually. I don't like writing characters if I don't understand their psychology well, and for a long time I just didn't with him. Part of the reason I kept up this series was because I wanted to explore characters I wasn't as sure of, like Sango and Miroku and Rin. It worked well for this guy too.

So even if no one's reading this collection anymore, thanks to my less than stellar updating…I definitely got something out of this. So ha!

Hope you liked it, despite the oddness within the author's note above…gomene for that…


End file.
